I mentioned in my last letter the fears I
entertained of a mutiny. This morning, as I sat watching the wan
countenance of my friend -- his eyes half closed, and his limbs hanging
listlessly, -- I was roused by half a dozen of the sailors, who demanded
admission into the cabin. They entered, and their leader
addressed me. He told me that he and his companions had been
chosen by the other sailors to come in deputation to me, to make
me a requisition, which, in justice, I could not refuse. We were
immured in ice, and should probably never escape; but they feared
that if, as was possible, the ice should dissipate, and a free
passage be opened, I should be rash enough to continue my voyage,
and lead them into fresh dangers, after they might happily have
surmounted this. They insisted, therefore, that I should engage
with a solemn promise, that if the vessel should be freed I would
instantly direct my course southward.